The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale

by O'Connell, Bishop

  “What did the oíche look like to you?” he asked as he exited the highway to take another east, toward Vermont.

  “Like Goth kids, really young, really beautiful, and creepy at the same time. Their faces were gaunt, more angular than seemed right. Their eyes were all black and their teeth were all pointed.”

  Brendan chewed on his lower lip.

  “What is it?”

  “Well,” he said, “either the stories your Nan told you made you able to accept what was around you, or . . .”

  “Or?” She waited for a response, but none came. “Brendan, what’s the other possibility?”

  “Let’s find out, then.” He turned down a rural highway, then onto a dirt road.

  Caitlin waited, and waited, and then waited some more. She tried to keep patient, but it was taking all of her focus. Soon she began to fidget. After everything else that had happened, what could be so bad that he wouldn’t just tell her?

  Needing to fill the silence with something, she decided to change the subject. “What does all this have to do with Fiona?”

  “Afraid I still don’t know.” Brendan’s face scrunched up. “And that’s the part that has me scratching me head. If the Dusk Court is involved, it doesn’t make a bit of sense for the wizard to be. I mean, they wouldn’t need him, would they?”

  “Is that rhetorical, or are you actually asking me?”

  Brendan stopped the truck. “Come on, love.”

  The road they were on bisected a large meadow. The wildflowers painted the clover and grass with patches of vivid colors, a last stand against the approaching end of autumn and start of winter.

  “All right, then.” Brendan pointed to the meadow. “Find me a four-­leaf clover.”

  “What?” Caitlin couldn’t help but laugh at the question.

  “Go into that meadow, there.” He pointed again. “And see if you can find me a four-­leaf clover.”

  “You’re joking, right? What does that have to do—­?”

  “Just humor me, love. I’ll explain it all to you, I promise.”

  Caitlin shrugged and walked into the meadow. Her eyes went back and forth over the ground as she went. This was ridiculous. People go their whole lives without ever coming across a—­

  There at her feet, plain as day, was a four-­leaf clover.

  A cold feeling began to creep its way into her body. She plucked the clover from the ground.

  “Well?” Brendan said.

  She held it out to him and swallowed. “I’ve never even heard of someone finding—­”

  “Find me another,” he said.

  Caitlin didn’t know what else to do. She turned around and walked back into the meadow. Her feet felt like they were filled with lead, and each step seemed to add more weight. The worst part was that she didn’t know why.

  Caitlin hadn’t covered five feet when she saw another four-­leaf clover standing out amidst the thousands of three-­leaf ones. Her breathing went shallow as she reached down with a shaking hand and pulled the second one from the ground. As she did, she spotted another off to her right. Turning to pluck that one, she saw another, then another, and another. Though not clustered together, it seemed that everywhere she turned her eyes, amidst the normal-­looking shamrocks was a four-­leaf clover.

  Brendan now stood in front of her. Unable to speak, she just dropped the collection into his hand.

  He must’ve seen her worry, because the stern look on his face melted. He opened his arms and drew her in, holding her close.

  “Brendan,” she said, “how does someone just find a four-­leaf clover every time they look for one?”

  She felt him draw in a breath, causing his broad chest to expand.

  “It’s a common enough thing,” he said. “For those what got fae blood in them, anyway.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Good. When you’re done, lock everything down,” Dante said into his cell phone as he paced back and forth in Edward’s study. “Notify the Cruinnigh about that, too. Oh, and we need wardens and marshals watching every gateway in a hundred-­mile radius. I don’t want them slipping by us. We’ve been waiting for a chance like this for too long. It’s time to finish it.”

  Dante listened. “Good. I also want anyone not fighting to go to ground and stay there till the dust settles.” After a pause, he nodded. “That’s right, and make sure the mortal involvement is as limited as possible. I don’t want the police, or anyone else, involved.” He ended the call.

  “I’m almost done,” Edward said without looking away from the bookshelves. Finding a book that looked useful, he shoved it into a bag with the others he’d pulled. When Dante didn’t answer, he glanced up. “How bad is this?”

  Dante gave him a sideways glance. “Pretty bad.”

  A noise outside caused them both to look up.

  “I think the wardens have arrived,” Dante said. “Stay here and finish, quickly.”

  “Do I need to—­?”

  “No door, no hearth protections,” Dante said as he walked out.

  Edward returned to his books.

  “They’re here,” Dante said from the living room. “It’s time to go.”

  Edward scanned faster to see if there were any other books he might need. “Too bad I can’t take the whole thi—­”

  “Now, Edward.”

  Edward dashed into the living room. When he looked up from latching his bag on the run, he stopped so quickly he nearly toppled over.

  Eight tall, handsome men—­other elves he presumed—­dressed in dark green tactical gear were standing in his living room. Five were holding submachine guns, the likes of which Edward had never seen. The other three were holding pale green pistols, and they all had two swords on their belts, one on each hip.

  He blinked at the sidhe SWAT team, then at Dante, who somehow had managed a quick change into green fatigues. “Well, that’s not going to draw any attention at all.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dante said. “It won’t be a problem.”

  “Incoming!” one of the elves shouted. Edward was tackled by one of the wardens and knocked away from the empty doorframe just before several black arrows passed through the air.

  “Ah, damn it to hell!” Dante shouted.

  “What?” Edward asked. Shouldn’t they be happy? Arrows against guns didn’t seem like much of a fight.

  As if in response to his thoughts, automatic gunfire chattered outside and bullets struck the floor and wall opposite the doorway.

  “How many, Arlen?” Dante asked from a crouch to one side of the doorway.

  “Not sure.” Arlen chanced a glance around the doorframe. “Two score, maybe. All oíche.”

  “Those arrows didn’t come from oíche.” Dante cocked a pistol.

  Arlen snapped his head back just in time to avoid an arrow. “You’re right. I see goblins, too.”

  Edward lost track of the commands given. The elves worked like a SEAL team. They shot and moved just before the return fire reached them. His mind was a jumble. He tried to grab lucid thoughts, but they slipped away. He flinched and cowered as more bullets peppered the floor and sent a spray of splinters into the air. The oíche and goblins had them pinned down. It was all just a matter of time. Edward might not be a soldier, but even he could see that.

  “Do you have a back door?” Dante asked.

  Edward snapped out of his daze and pointed down the hall.

  “Faolan.”

  “On it.” An elf bolted down the hall.

  Moments later, more gunfire came from that direction and Faolan returned.

  “No good,” he said. “They’ve surrounded the place.”

  Everything around Edward seemed to slow. The sounds were faint, little more than a whisper. He felt like he was watching a movie, the bullets hitting the floor and wall, clouds of
plaster hanging in the air like powder smoke, even the silent shouts from one soldier to another.

  Then, like a trap springing, his mind locked into gear. Spells organized themselves in his head like a menu on a computer screen, just waiting for him to choose one.

  “I think the wizard’s lost it,” one of the elves said, then fired out the door.

  “No, I haven’t.” Edward got to his feet. Somehow he’d never seen it before, the magic all around him, just waiting for his command. Power was right at his fingertips. He lifted his hand as he walked to the doorway.

  “Edward!” Dante shouted.

  “Aer.” Edward’s voice was calm and even as he reached out for the magic and seized it. Outside, pale-­skinned, dark-­haired children leveled their guns at him. Then the magic slipped away.

  “Oh—­”

  Dante tackled him and they slid across the floor, just before bullets riddled it and the doorframe.

  “What are you thinking?” Dante said.

  “Focus, I have to stay focused.”

  “What?”

  Dante looked at Edward as if he was insane. Maybe he was, but he wasn’t going to just wait to get shot. He got to his feet and reached for the magic again. He found more of it there than he’d realized. He gripped it in his will and shouted, “Aer!”

  A rush of wind roared past him. It carried splinters and debris up and out the door. A volley of arrows hit the gale and were scattered like leaves.

  Gunfire erupted, but even the bullets were knocked aside by the torrent.

  “Okay,” Dante said. “Um, wow?”

  Oíche and creatures Edward presumed were the goblins looked at him in surprise. Large red eyes and solid black ones blinked and stared.

  Edward felt a smile cross his lips as his confidence grew.

  I CAN do this. Pathetic little insects!

  “Are the trails clear?” Dante asked one of the elves.

  “Near as we can tell.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Dante said. “Faolan, use the oak in the front yard.”

  “We’ll cover you,” Arlen said.

  “No,” Edward said with a voice still calm and even as he stared at the fireplace. “You’ll want to duck first.”

  Dante threw himself prone on the floor. The other elves followed his lead.

  Once more, Edward focused his will around the magic and seized it. Again, he found more power than he expected, and it was easy to hold onto now. He finally understood. This was the power he’d touched on. It was incredible, and it was good.

  “Let’s see how you like the taste of this,” he whispered. He waved his hand at the fireplace, then forward, as if throwing air out the door. “Haearn.”

  The fireplace tools leapt from their holder and flew past Edward, out the doorway. He watched in glee as the iron implements struck home. They went clean through oíche and goblin alike. One even went through a car and impaled an oíche on the other side.

  Screams, high and shrill, filled the air, along with low howls of pain. Clouds of darkness tinged with lights drifted around the yard. The fae’s cries were like a symphony to Edward. He could nearly taste the torment, and it was sweet.

  “Go, Faolan!” Dante ordered. “Now, open the trail!”

  Faolan ran for the large oak in the front yard as the dark creatures flopped and writhed. Those not injured dove for cover, both from fear of Edward and from the covering fire the elves opened up on them.

  “So this is what it’s like to be feared,” Edward said. Then his smile faded as understanding came to him. “Oh no.”

  There was a thrum of power, and Faolan gestured toward the tree. The trunk of it grew and stretched until it was a large archway covered by a swirl of white mist.

  The elves ran for the tree, firing at the oíche and goblins on the way.

  Edward tried to follow, but his legs didn’t seem to work anymore. He felt himself falling to the floor.

  “Gotcha,” Dante said as he caught him. “Come on, time to go.”

  As Dante wrapped an arm around Edward and lifted the wizard until his shoes barely touched the ground, Edward figured he knew how Paddy Bear must feel being carried around by Fiona.

  Edward noticed muzzle flashes and arrows zip past, but his brain didn’t register them as anything important. “I don’t think my head is right.” He noticed the detail of an arrowhead as it passed within inches of his face. “Yep, something isn’t right.”

  Then he was passing through the mist and his body seemed weightless.

  No, that wasn’t it. He was passing out, that’s what it was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “He’s alive,” said a voice in the black.

  Edward opened his eyes and found a smiling face looking down at him. He was flat on his back, looking up at trees tall enough to make redwoods feel mediocre. They were so tall, in fact, that Edward couldn’t see the canopy of the forest. The trees just vanished into a white haze.

  “Gave us quite a scare,” Dante said.

  The way he said the word scare gave Edward pause, and he looked into Dante’s eyes for a long moment. He felt completely transparent.

  “Feeling better?” Dante offered his hand.

  Edward took the offered hand, and Dante lifted him to his feet. Edward was happy to find his legs now seemed to be working. All of the elves were eyeing him.

  “Give it a minute,” Dante said.

  Edward did a double take. How was it he hadn’t noticed the pointed ears before? Or that Dante’s eyes had no pupil or whites and seemed to be lit from inside his skull? The eight other faces also had pointed ears and, though their eyes were varying shades of green, blue, and even purple, they were all solid colors with the same radiant quality.

  “I love the look when a mortal sees through the glamour for the first time,” one of the elves said with a laugh.

  He was joined by his compatriots, including Dante, in a chuckle at Edward’s expense.

  “Oh, right. The glamour,” Edward said.

  “I put a simple charm on you to let you see past it,” Dante said. “I’d planned on doing it in the car, but . . .”

  “Thanks.” Edward swallowed.

  Get a grip, something inside him said. They don’t know about the power you tapped into. You didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened. It wasn’t you. Besides, you didn’t have much—­

  “That was quite the show back there,” Dante said and crouched down on his haunches. He motioned to a tree stump for Edward to sit on. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Edward sat down.

  Oh, hell, they know, he said to himself.

  They will if you don’t settle down, he retorted.

  Dante narrowed his eyes. “You don’t look so good.”

  “It was strange,” Edward said. “I’ve never used those spells before. Not that I’ve used many. I guess I’m what you’d call a theoretical wizard. Not much experience in the actual practice.”

  “You’ve got good instincts,” Faolan said. “Not many mortals with natural talent like that.”

  “No,” Dante said. “Not many.”

  “Unfortunately”—­Edward cleared his throat before continuing—­“I’m not used to using the magic. I think it took more out of me than I was prepared for.” And stop looking at me like that.

  “Don’t be so critical of yourself,” Dante said. “You’ll get stronger.”

  Edward put his face in his hands and took several long breaths. Magic had its costs, he knew that. Fatigue was to be expected, but it was mental more than physical. When he finally started to calm down and got a grip on the irrational paranoia, he looked up.

  “Where are we?” he asked. “I heard you say something about trails?”

  This was a bizarre version of a forest. The ground had no growth, no grass, no ferns, nothin
g. There was nothing but massive trees in every direction. It almost had the appearance of a manicured orchard, where everywhere you looked there was a clear path.

  “The far trails,” Dante said. “It’s hard to explain in terms you’ll understand.” He considered for a moment. “Think of it like hyperspace.”

  “Hyperspace?”

  “Haven’t you ever seen Star Wars?” Dante laughed, and again the others joined.

  Edward laughed too, but his wasn’t as jovial. “So it’s like a portal between points, outside of the mortal realm? Like Tír na nÓg?”

  “Yes and no,” Arlen said.

  “It’s like the Tír,” Dante said. “But it isn’t. Think of it as the space between spaces. We can use it to travel to specific points. Time flows differently here. In the mortal world, time is moving slowly. In fact, for all practical purposes, it’s stopped.”

  “Interesting,” Edward said.

  “Indeed.” Dante laughed again.

  “What’s keeping the oíche from following us?” Edward asked. The elves were relaxed, so he decided he didn’t need to panic, not yet anyway.

  “They might,” Dante said. “But like I said, time is different here. If they came seconds after us, it would be days before they appeared, maybe weeks.”

  “So how long did you wait for me?” Edward asked Faolan.

  “Just a ­couple days or—­”

  As if to dispute what had just been explained, there was a shimmer, and a creature that was vaguely wolf shaped, but much larger, leapt through the air. It hit one of the elves and drove him to the ground.

  The elf brought his legs up as he fell backwards, kicked the creature up and over his head, then used the momentum to roll back to his feet.

  “Shadow-­Beast!” Dante yelled.

  The elves all drew their swords as the creature landed on its back, then rolled to its feet.

  Edward stared as it lowered its head and looked at them with smoldering, dark purple eyes. A low rumble came from it as it bared inky black teeth in a snarl.

  “Stay behind us,” Dante said as the elves formed a line between Edward and the beast.

  It leapt at Arlen, but he spun and cut across it with his sword as it flew by. It landed silently and bounded right at Edward.